


Open Sea

by starblessed



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Ocean, literal ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed
Summary: Anne has never sailed across the ocean before. She’s never prepared to meet the Queen of England. She’s never started a conversation with Phillip Carlyle.Clearly, this is a week of firsts.





	Open Sea

**Author's Note:**

> guess who’s got two thumbs, didn’t proofread, and will inevitably get around to it later?? this girl
> 
> my tumblr is [abroholoselephanta](http://abroholoselephanta.tumblr.com/) and i’m still accepting The Greatest Showman prompts!

“Well, well.”

There is something delightful in the way Phillip jumps, springing upright and around as if he has something to be guilty about. His hands brace against the ship’s rail for balance as he turns to face her, eyes wide in his handsome face.

Anne isn’t sure who’s more surprised: her at finding Phillip on the otherwise empty third-class deck, or Phillip at being discovered.

On any other day, she wouldn’t tease him. On any other day she would keep her distance, be respectful, not to mention merciful. There is something about sailing across the sea that empowers her, however. They’re not in the circus ring anymore; they’re not even in America. They’re sailing across the ocean to meet the queen of England. If something like that’s possible, well, Anne can hold a casual conversation with the circus’s biggest benefactor.

“If it isn’t Mr. Carlyle,” she drawls, tying her shawl around her shoulders. Her deft hands quickly tug a bow together, fastening the garment around her. Pleased, she leans against the ship’s railing, dark eyes studying him. “What might you be doing slumming down here? First class not good enough for you?”

Phillip’s face flushes. He’s made it clear that they’re not traveling by luxury liner; the difference between third and first class isn’t as pronounced, not as severe as it might be on a more regal ship. That doesn’t change the fact that Phillip and the Barnum family all have nice, spacious cabins to themselves, while Anne is down below sharing a bunk with her brother.

Phillip recovers from his embarrassment quickly; maybe he can tell she’s laughing at him. “The food is quite bland, to be honest,” he says, turning back to the ocean as well. “And the company can not compare.”

“You’d rather be down playing poker with us than up sipping brandy with the swells?”

Something in Phillip’s cerulean eyes sparkles. “Without a doubt.”

Anne crooks an eyebrow. Yet again, her curiosity about this very unusual member of their circus troupe is piqued. In the month since Phillip joined them, she’s exchanged only superficial conversation with the man, but there’s always something about him that makes him wonder what game he’s really playing at.

Maybe it’s a lot of things, adding up all at once. She remembers the awe in his eyes when they locked with hers for the first time. She revisits flashes of him in the ring, training alongside their ringmaster; catching the two little Barnum girls in his arms as they shout for him; helping to coach some of the newer performers through last-second stage fright. There is always something about Phillip Carlyle that suggests a disdain from the world he comes from, but his desire to fit into their world shines more than anything else. Anne isn’t sure if it’s more impressive that he doesn’t seem to care a whit for what he left behind, or that his efforts are working.

She can’t quite figure Phillip out, and she finds herself thinking of him more than she ought to.

She sighs to herself, leaning forward and gazing out at the sea. Wide, blue ocean stretches out in every direction. It is glorious; limitless. The open sky is breathtaking enough, but seeing the sea spread before them as if there has never been anything else, and never will be again...

It’s enough to make Anne dizzy, in the best way.

Instead of voicing any of this to Phillip, she just tilts her head up into the breeze and closes her eyes, allowing the ship’s sway to rock her. “Sad to say there’s nobody up here today. Everyone’s below... rehearsing.”

(That’s a nice way of saying half the performers are seasick, and the other half won’t dare to brave the overcast sky and winter chill in the air. If Anne were an ounce less adventurous — and not suffocating from being cooped up below decks for so long — she’d probably be inside with them.)

“Rehearsing, huh?” Phillip sounds mildly intrigued; but Anne can feel his gaze resting on her. “Why are you up here, then?”

Anne smirks. “You ever tried doing trapeze tricks on a moving ship. Not as easy as it looks.”

“I can imagine,” Phillip says. When Anne cracks an eye open, she is rewarded by the sight of him chuckling. There is something striking about his smile, free of guile and dishonesty — as open as the sky above them. He is utterly unlike Barnum that way; they are molded from two different types of charming clay. Anne thinks she has the sort of man their ringmaster is pinned down, but Phillip is a harder but to crack.

“I can help,” he says suddenly. “Help you all rehearse, if you — if you want...”

“That’s not necessary. But thank you, Mr. Carlyle.”

For a second, Phillip looks crestfallen, as if the idea of not being _needed_ has gone and broken his heart. Then Anne takes a step closer, and the tension fades from his face.

She isn’t sure what she’s doing. She’s more curious than anything (unable to guess what his reaction will be) when she leans over and points out in front of him. “The ocean is beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve never been on a ship before. Makes me think of a pirate boat, or...”

“A whaling vessel,” Phillip contributes softly. “Sailing the seas in search of our great white whale. Until we find it, we are cursed never to return to land.”

“You’ve got quite the imagination.”

He spares her a smile. “I try.”

She can’t help laughing, then; even though she knows she shouldn’t. It is dangerous to get too close. People like her and Phillip aren’t meant to laugh at each other’s jokes. They shouldn’t be friends. Anne should not look at him and dwell on the way his blue eyes glitter, or how well the tiny cleft in his chin suits him. She should not think that he is too handsome for the stench of alcohol she catches on his breath some nights. She should not look at his fingers wrapped around the railing, and wonder what they would feel like twined with her own.

She should not get too close, because it’s dangerous, but something in her cannot resist.

She takes another step closer, and feels Phillip’s shoulder brush up against hers. She doesn’t react to the proximity; neither does Phillip. The chilly breeze beats upon both their faces, but they do not cringe away.

“So,” she says, “I guess the Queen of England’s a close friend of yours, huh?”

When Phillip laughs, she recognizes just how dangerous this is. She still doesn’t _know_ him; this feels like plunging headfirst over the side of the ship and into the ocean.

Anne doesn’t back down. She is not afraid.

Whatever sort of man Phillip is, she’s determined to figure it out for herself.


End file.
